14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Jake
I n the living room, I kneel beside Charlotte, holding her as she sobs into my chest. Her tears soak through my shirt. Every one of her sniffles is a knife to my heart.
"I don't feel good, Daddy," she whimpers, her hands clutching my forearms. “That’s why Ms. Carter should stay.”
The fib tugs at something inside me, but Marcus' words are too loud in my head—the unspoken code between best friends, which means sisters are off limits. It's a line I can't cross.
"Char, you and I both know you're not sick anymore." I try to keep my tone gentle, but it's rough around the edges, like sandpaper on raw wood. "You've been bouncing around all morning like your usual self."
She buries her face against my chest, her words muffled but insistent. "Ms. Carter helps me with my homework. I like when she makes breakfast. You don’t make good waffles." Her attempts at negotiation might be cute if they weren't so damn heartbreaking.
My mind is at war, caught between the protectiveness I feel for my little girl and the yearning that stirs every time I catch a glimpse of Ellie. But what kind of father would I be if I let those selfish wants overshadow what's best?
“You know she can’t stay. She has her own life. Work.”
The sound of wheels rolling over hardwood echoes around us. Ellie emerges with her luggage, her eyes glassy. She's trying to be strong, but her disappointment is written all over her face. It feels like I’m the bad guy here, but I’m only trying to do what’s right, what’ll protect all of our emotions.
Ellie gives me a small, sad smile before kneeling in front of Charlotte. "Hey, it's going to be okay." Ellie wraps Charlotte in a hug and my daughter clings to her like she's drowning. "I'll see you at school, alright? We can work on your homework together. I promise. I’ll set aside time every day just for you."
"No!" Charlotte wails. "It's not the same! Please don’t leave."
"Charlotte," I say, and there's a hard edge to my voice now, the one that leaves no argument because I'm her father and sometimes I have to lay down the law.
I peel Charlotte off Ellie, earning a scream of protest. Her face reddens as she swats at me and squirms, shrieking for Ellie.
Ellie steps back, one hand covering her mouth. Her eyes meet mine, a silent plea in their depths.
I shake my head once. I can't give in. Not again. Giving in is what led us to this moment.
“Well, thank you for letting me crash here,” Ellie says softly before giving my arm a gentle squeeze. It takes all I have not to pull her back, to tell her to forget everything and just stay. I need to rip this bandaid off.
"Take care, Ellie," I manage to say before she slips out the front door.
The door closing behind her feels too final. The room is suddenly colder, emptier, as if she took all the warmth with her.
The tantrum reaches a fever pitch. Charlotte collapses to the floor, thrashing and screaming. I scoop her up and carry her to her bedroom, my heart shredded into confetti.
She's a bundle of raw, unchecked emotion, and she makes it known with every kick and wail. "I don't want her to go!"
I lay her gently on the bed, but she scrambles like a wild thing to the window, staring as Ellie gets into the car she ordered. Charlotte chokes on her sobs, her small hands pressed against the glass. "I'm not sick anymore, but she can still stay." She turns to me with a red puffy face and eyes. “Please…Daddy…”
"She can't stay here forever, sweetheart." My throat tightens around the words. "No matter how much we want her to. She has her own life"
She stands next to the window looking like the life is draining from her. Covering her eyes with the crook of her elbow, so sobs. "I miss…Mommy. All the…other…kids have…mommies. Why…not me?"
Seeing her in so much pain is more than I can bear. I try to reach for her, to hold my little girl, but she smacks my hand away and shrieks, “Let me alone! You made her go!”
"Sweetheart, I know you miss her. I miss her too." My voice breaks, mirroring my resolve. "But Ellie can’t be your mommy."
"Why not?" she sobs.
"She just can't."
It's the most pathetic, useless answer I've ever given, and it does nothing to stem the tide of her grief. Frustration, helplessness, fear—they claw at my insides, reminding me of all the times I couldn't save those I loved. I can’t even comfort my daughter right.
Charlotte throws herself onto the bed. She curls up around the stuffed bear Sarah gave her, the one she's clung to since she was a baby.
Watching her, a lead weight settles in my gut. I decide to give her the space she needs, closing the door gently behind me. Back in my own room, I drop onto the edge of the bed, my gaze drawn to Sarah's picture frame. I straighten it, her smile a bittersweet memory that warms and wounds me all at once.
The house feels like an empty shell without Ellie's presence, cold and uninviting. I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the knots, my mind racing with doubts about sending her away. Staring at Sarah's photo, I search for answers. I can’t find any.