97. Chapter 97
ninety-seven
“ W elcome home!” they all shouted as the door opened and two men wheeled Frank inside, tilting the chair gently over the threshold.
Poppy followed close behind, arms overloaded with bags, like a packhorse.
Frank smiled, though there was a flicker of discomfort behind it; the quiet sting of not being able to walk into his own home, especially in front of his children.
Monroe held the kids back until he was settled in an armchair. The hoist that would lift him into bed had been pushed neatly against the wall. The sofa had been shifted to the corner, and the units that once held trinkets and memories of their life together had been moved into the spare room.
It didn’t look like the same room he’d left that afternoon before the accident, but it was better than a hospital room.
“Looks lovely in here,” Poppy said, dropping the bags and thanking the drivers. She turned to Frank with a hopeful smile. “What do you think?”
Frank glanced around, then at his children. “It’s amazing,” he said, voice catching as his eyes filled. “It’s good to be home.” He opened one arm, and Benji and Kitty didn’t hesitate, rushing into his embrace.
“Thanks, Monroe,” he said quietly.
“Of course,” Monroe replied, her voice gentle. She glanced at Poppy. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
“I’ll give you a hand.” Poppy grimaced as she turned towards the kitchen. “Kitty, don’t climb on Dad, okay?”
Kitty’s shoulders slumped. “Aw, but—”
“Frank, don’t let them—”
He laughed. “I’m hardly in a position to stop them, am I?” Then he turned to Kitty. “When I’m in bed, you can jump in for a cuddle. Just need to be careful of the old bones, alright?”
Monroe stepped into the kitchen, filled the kettle, and flicked it on. When Poppy followed her in, Monroe didn’t wait. She pulled her into a hug, hands firm on her friend’s shoulders.
“He’s home,” Monroe whispered. “You can breathe now.”
Poppy let out a soft chuckle. “Am I that obvious?”
“Just a little,” Monroe smiled. “But I think it’s entirely valid.”
Poppy looked at her, her expression shifting.
“There was a moment—well, more than a moment—that first night at the hospital. I didn’t think he’d make it.
I didn’t say it out loud, not even to you, but…
I spent the whole night trying to work out how I’d tell the kids.
What I’d say. How we’d cope.” She exhaled shakily.
“And now he’s home. Grumpy, frustrated, in pain… but home.”
Monroe reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You did it. You got him through it.”
Poppy blinked quickly and gave a small nod. “ We did.”
“I didn’t really do—”
The kettle clicked off, but Poppy cut her off with a playful punch to the arm. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Having you and Chloé here, knowing the kids were okay…that meant everything—to me, and to Frank.”
Monroe smiled, shaking her head as she reached for the mugs hanging on the little tree by the counter. “Well, it’s a godparent’s duty, surely.”
Poppy snorted as she dumped teabags in and poured hot water into the mugs. “Maybe. But you went above and beyond. And you’re still here, still helping, and I can’t thank you enough—especially when I know it means being apart from Chloé.”
Squeezing the teabags, Poppy added a drop of milk and pushed one mug towards Monroe.
Monroe paused, her hands wrapping around the warm mug. “She understands. Doesn’t love it, but she understands.”
“She’s a good one.”
“She is.” Monroe smiled softly. “We both know this isn’t forever, just…what’s needed right now.”
Poppy reached for the milk, her expression full of quiet gratitude. “Well, I hope you know how much I love you for it.”
Monroe handed her a mug. “I do. And I love you too. Now go rescue Frank before Kitty tries to dress him up as a unicorn or something.”
Poppy laughed, wiping at her eyes. “I bet she’s already asked him if he fancies sparkles.”