Chapter 13 #2
Penny’s face grows serious. “I don’t have a dad, he died.” Her voice is matter-of-fact in that devastating way only children can manage. “Will you teach me?”
I can hear every heart in the room break.
Mine has broken and cracked so many times it’s already dust, and all it can do is take another blow and scatter.
I watch Josh’s face, waiting for the awkward pity, the fumbling response that adults give when Penny drops her dad’s death into casual conversation.
But Josh absorbs it, steady as ever. He stays at eye level with her and asks, “What would you like to learn how to fix?”
“My bike is broken,” Penny says, and I inwardly groan because that’s another thing that slipped through the cracks of my life. The chain came off and got stuck last month, and I haven’t had time to deal with it.
You could’ve fixed it this weekend instead of gallivanting around town with the hot neighbor, a mean voice hisses in my head. I tell it to cut me a break.
“I have the day off tomorrow,” Josh offers. “Why don’t you stop by my place after school, and we’ll see what we can do, I’m in—”
“Apartment 1F, Agatha told everyone,” Penny finishes for him. “Yeah, I can come.”
Josh frowns, looking like he isn’t sure if he should’ve offered. “If your mom is okay with that.”
He looks up at me, and our eyes meet across the room for the first time since he got swept into the family circus. “Hey.” The word is softspoken, but it finds me anyway, with a note in it meant only for me: are you okay? Is this okay?
“Hey,” I reply, my pulse speeding up for no reason. “Yeah, that’s okay.” I answer all three questions in one.
All eyes turn on me, especially Josie’s, and I know I’ll be in for a thorough interrogation the moment Josh leaves. My sister can read me like a neon sign, and right now I’m flashing “COMPLICATED FEELINGS” in bright pink letters.
Josh nods. “If you’re busy, I can come back later.”
I clear my throat. “No, I just have to put Penny to bed, but I can change your dressing first.”
“No, Mom. Can they tuck me in?” Penny turns to Josie and Dorian. “I like when you alternate voices for the characters in my bedtime stories.”
“Of course, princess.” Josie smiles at Penny and shoots me a look that promises we’ll be talking later. “Let’s go pick a book.”
I lead Josh to the bathroom, leaving the door open because—well, because it seems like the proper thing to do when my daughter and family are home, even if I’m just changing a bandage.
I grab my kit from the cabinet above the sink, avoiding Josh’s eyes as Penny’s excited chatter fades down the hallway.
“Why do I feel like you’re hiding me?” Josh asks as I unwrap the old gauze.
“You survived the gauntlet.” I don’t answer him.
“Did I pass?” He says it as a joke, but a fracture of vulnerability marks his tone. “I’m pretty sure your sister was about to demand my references and to check an ID.”
“You did great,” I tell him. “Especially the celebrity encounter.”
“Took a hundred points off my coolness reserves, minimum. And hey, you’ve got an awesome kid.”
I smile full of pride. “She is. Too smart sometimes.”
“Is it okay that I offered to fix her bike?” he asks. “I should have checked with you first.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him, focusing on applying the antibiotic cream. “Bicycle maintenance is another thing I’m failing at, so thank you.”
“You’re not failing,” he says, his voice gentle. “You’re doing an amazing job.”
My body temperature surges at the compliment, so I brush it aside with a “Best that I can anyway,” and change the subject. “How did it go with your moving boxes?”
“I imagine as riveting as with your laundry,” he replies with a grin. “Bet I’ll find a portal to Narnia before I’m done.”
I chuckle loudly. “Just make sure it’s one-way. I’m not ready for talking beavers building a dam in our pool.” I finish the wrap, dump the trash in the bin, and gesture to Josh’s arm. “You’re free to go hunt for the lion.”
He cracks a smile and says he’ll let me know if he’s attacked by centaurs. We move toward the door simultaneously and have to do that awkward “after you, no, after you” shuffle before I escape into the hallway.
Dorian and Josie are still in Penny’s room reading to her, so Josh and I are alone. I walk him to the front door, feeling like this is the end of a date, which is absurd. It was nothing—a bandage change. In my bathroom. With my entire family in the next room.
Josh stands by the door, his keys in hand. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
He stalls, not leaving yet, making me wonder what would happen if I closed the gap. Let myself be held, or kissed, or whatever people do when they want things and are not afraid to ask.
He smiles at me, the porch light turning his hair gold. “Night.”
The goodbye hangs heavier than it should, and I’m not sure which of us is more aware of what it doesn’t say.
“Night,” I answer with the same word, thinking it too small for the pressure straining behind my ribs.
He steps out. I don’t watch him go. I close the door and lean against it.
I want more, and I don’t. I want to run away, and I want to stay. But most of all, I want to believe in a version of this story where I won’t break myself open and fall apart if I let someone in.