Page 3 of A Little Christmas Jericho
He'd really taken all his stuff. Walked away. From me.
I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be feeling. Sad? Sure. Disappointed? Definitely. But mostly... I felt relief. For the first time in what felt like months, it felt like I could breathe.
Andthatmade me feel guilty. What kind of boy was relieved when his Daddy left him?
I slid down onto the couch, curling my knees to my chest. Daisy immediately wedged her massive head into my lap, huffing warm air over my skin. My throat tightened, and I pressed my face into the scruff between her ears.
"I don't get it, girl," I whispered, voice cracking. "I should be a mess, right? He was supposed to take care of me. He was supposed to—" My words tripped over themselves and I stopped, blinking hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to say anything else.
Tofu, my other cat baby, hopped onto the back of the couch, tail flicking. Murphy squeaked his toy in the background like my life hadn’t just taken a detour. Like things weren’t falling down around us.
The thing was... only part of me had fallen apart.
The other part? It was whispering that maybe I deserved better.
I wiped my hands on my thighs and sat up.
Enough of this.
I wasn't going to sit here feeling bad aboutnotfeeling bad about someone who'd never actually been what he promised to be. What I needed was... little time.
The thought wrapped around me like a blanket. If Daddy wasn't here, I could still be safe. I could still take care ofme.
I didn'tneeda Daddy.
I padded into my bedroom, pets trailing after me like a mismatched parade. Daisy thumped onto the rug with a sigh. Finch leapt onto the dresser.
I opened the closet and tugged out the soft bundle tucked away at the back. My favourite footie pyjamas. They were pretty purple with little white clouds. The zipper was a bit finicky, but once I wriggled in, I felt myself shrinking down inside, softer, smaller, safer. I pulled on my knitted hat with the floppy bunny ears, grabbed my dummy from the nightstand, and padded back into the living room with Murphy squeaking at my heels.
I settled criss-cross applesauce on the couch, clutching my favourite soft blanket, and exhaled. This was better... This was...
My focus zeroed in on the coffee table.
A folded piece of paper, with my name scrawled across it in Oscar's handwriting.
The air whooshed out of me as my stomach flipped. He left me a damn goodbye letter.
What could he even say that wouldn't be a complete mindfuck? I didn't want to read it, but my hands moved of their own accord and picked it up, anyway.
Good luck with those damn pets of yours.
Bet they'll be getting sick again soon and you'll come crying back to me when they all die.
Don't bother. I won't take you, even if you were the last boy on earth.
The dummy nearly slipped from my lips. My chest squeezed so tight it hurt.
I couldn't believe he would say something like that. So my babies had some health issues. Who wouldn't if they came from the situations we'd rescued them from?
Oh. My. Gawd.
No. No!
He wouldn't!
Would he?
My eyes flew to Finch, perched on the arm of the sofa. To Tofu, blinking his one golden eye at me. Oscar had been alone with them while I was gone. He hated the cats even more than the dogs.
