Page 15 of Hot Puck
Words are being whispered in my ear, but my fractured mind doesn’t understand them. I just know the sound is a constant murmur that draws me closer.
My forehead rests on Natalie’s shoulder, my arms wrapped tightly around her like she’s the only lifejacket in a thrashing sea. The snug hold of her arms encircling my waist presses our bodies together, and every wall I’ve held in place since my parents’ died crumbles, and I bawl like I’ve never bawled before.
And she holds me through it.
Lets the storm of emotions inside me fall onto her shoulders while her arms banding my waist keep me grounded, keep me from collapsing to the floor.
I have no idea how long it takes, how long she allows me to use her strength, but when the sobs finally slow, when the tears start to dry up, I stay exactly where I am. Stay in the safe place she’s given me.
Despite the tears and anguish, it’s the calmest I’ve felt in months, and I can’t bring myself to move.
In the weeks since everything changed, I haven’t broken down once. Not like this. Not this bone dissolving grief that has left me weak and her shirt soaked.
“Why don’t you go take a shower and lie down? I can keep an ear out for Candace and give her another bottle or whatever it is she needs when she wakes, just tell me what I need to do.”
She pulls back to look at me but doesn’t let go and I’m grateful, I’m not ready to leave the comfort of her arms. I’m not sure I ever will be.
“Do you need to pick up the twins?”
I shake my head. “They’re getting dropped off by their friend’s mom, Mrs. Harper.” My voice is raw, jagged around the edges and scraping my throat in a way it never has.
“Okay.” She looks at the clock on the oven. “Why don’t I make you some lunch while you shower and then you can take a nap.”
“I...” My throat chokes up and I have to swallow to clear the lump from the back of it. “I’m okay. I can make my own lunch.”
“Chase.”
Her arms move, slip away from my waist so she can bring her hands up to cradle my face. Her skin is soft and warm against my cheeks, and I want nothing more than to lean into her again. Let her hold me up.
But I can’t.
I need to be strong for the girls. I’m all they have.
“Don’t.” She keeps my head still, her gaze drilling into mine. “Don’t take it all on when you don’t have to. It’s okay to accept a little help. It doesn’t mean you’re failing, or you don’t care.”
“Why?” The croak in my voice is still there, my throat still aching with rawness. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I’ve been where you are without the younger siblings. In my case it was an elderly aunt who needed care, so I know how hard it is, how easy it is to take it all on, to think you’re alone. But I was lucky enough to have someone to force help on me. Let me do that for you. Let me help take some of the burden off your shoulders. Just for a little while today.”
“I should?—”
“You should do what I said. Take a shower, have something to eat, then lie down. It doesn’t have to be long. Just rest for a bit without worrying about anything else. I’ll take care of anything urgent.”
“I”—shaking my head I try to clear the fog my crying jag left me in—“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Her answer is firm, no room for anything but acceptance, and the relief that flows through me is breath stealing. Even though I want to argue, I know I can’t stay upright for much longer.
“All right. I’ll shower. See how I feel?—”
“Nope. You have three things to do for the next few hours.”
She removes her hands from my face and pulls completely free of my hold and I’m struck by how natural holding her felt. So natural it feels weird not having her in my arms now.
Raising a fisted hand, she flicks up her index finger. “Shower.” Her middle finger joins the first. “Eat.” Then she rounds out the trio with her ring finger. “Rest.”
“I can rest down here.” I’m not sure why I’m pushing. My mind and body are drained, and I want to lie down and forget about all the things I need to deal with, let someone else handle them even if it is for only a few minutes.
