Chapter 11
CLOVER
Ifreeze. I don’t just tense up; it’s a whole-body adrenaline freeze that is incredibly unhelpful in stressful situations. My heart is pounding in my chest.
“Lennon,” Beckett says sharply, jumping to his feet.
“I can’t see,” I whisper, panic gripping my throat. “I can’t see, Beck.”
“It’s okay, Clover. I’ve got you,” he assures me, his voice low.
He pulls me close to him, and my fingers curl into his shirt, grounding me.
I hear the bedside drawer sliding open, and a beam flashes on, lighting up a small area.
A flashlight. He presses it into my hand and is on the move, already halfway to the stairs, when another small cry comes from the floor below.
I quickly jump into the sweats he had brought in for me, and pull his hoodie over my head.
“I’m coming, Lennon,” he calls to her. “Stay with me, Clover,” he tells me, and I do.
Lennon is standing in her doorway, crying, when we reach her hallway, her bottom lip quivering, her hands wringing in front of her. I know this way too well. I drop to my knees in front of her without even thinking, pulling her into my arms.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, rocking her gently. “It’s just the power. You’re safe, Lenny. You’re safe.”
Beckett disappears for a minute and comes back to us, a camping lantern and another flashlight in his hands. He sets the lantern down with us.
“Would you be okay to stay here with her?” He asks me.
“Of course,” I respond, immediately. “Yes.”
He nods and turns to Lennon. “I’ve gotta go start the generator, Beetlebug, Clover’s got ya though, okay?”
Lennon nods, still clinging to my neck. “You’ll come back though, right, Daddy?” She asks him.
“I will always be back for my girl,” he tells her. There’s no doubt behind his words, and it makes my heart ache.
He heads off, but hesitates at the top of the stairs. He comes back to us and runs his hand down Lennon’s hair lovingly, and quickly, gently, kisses the top of my head.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs and leaves us.
Lennon and I make our way downstairs and find her little froggy flashlight in the kitchen.
She’s a smart kid, prepared. She shows me where emergency candles are, and asks if I’m allowed to use matches.
It makes me smile to know that even when she’s this freaked out, she still puts someone else’s safety at the front of her mind.
After we get a bunch of the candles lit and placed around the living room, I grab a big blanket, and we sit down on the couch.
Lennon tucks herself against my side, and I cover us up.
We listen to the house settle into quiet, only the sound of rain and water washing past outside in places it shouldn’t be.
“I don’t really like it when it’s dark,” Lennon whispers.
“I don’t either,” I admit. “But, we are okay. We can hear the rain. That means that the world is still out there.”
Lennon is silent for a minute. “I like it when you’re here,” she confesses quietly, like saying it out loud will break something. I feel my chest tighten.
“You do?”
She nods and presses her face against my arm, getting comfortable. “You make Daddy smile. You make us laugh, and you don’t get mad when I ask a lots of questions.”
I swallow hard. This little girl does have some sorcery in her; I was right. She’s got me wrapped around her finger.
“Questions are important,” I tell her.
The sound of the generator sputtering to life breaks the silence. The lights flicker once and then come on, a warm glow filling the living room. Lennon looks around like it’s magic.
A moment later, Beckett comes through the door, wet and breathless, his hair plastered to his forehead.
God, he’s beautiful.
“Alright, girls. Generator is on. Should be good for a while, we just can’t push it.”
“Push it as in..” I trail off.
“You know—no TV, fridge, or microwave. None of the things that make life easy,” he sums up.
Lennon groans. “But popcorn!” She complains.
“You haven’t wanted popcorn in forever,” Beckett challenges her.
“Yeah, but now I want it.” She whines over a yawn.
Beckett rolls his eyes. “Alright, kiddo, party is over. Let’s all get back to bed.”
We all head back up the stairs, Lennon hugging me quickly before she and Beckett go back in her room to tuck her in.
I head back to my room and sit down on the bed, waiting for him to come back up so we can talk.
He joins me a minute later, leaning against the wall, sighing.
“That can’t happen again,” he tells me quietly.
“I know,” I admit. I already knew.
“I can’t risk confusing her,” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Or you.”
“I understand,” I say, the lump in my throat threatening to cut me off. I do understand, though. I also know that it fucking hurts.
“Goodnight, Clover Jane. If you need anything—”
I stop him. “I know. Just holler.”
He grins sadly and nods, pulling my door closed behind him.
I try to sleep, I really do. Instead, I just lay here, listening to the generator hum outside, staring at the nightlight that started all this tonight. My body remembers his hands. His mouth. The way he devoured me like he had been starving.
I press my face into my pillow, my breath catching as the weight of everything settles in, and cry quietly, hoping the distance between our rooms is far enough that he can’t hear how pathetic I am.